Time Leaves No Survivors
by Santoryuu3
Summary: 5 years have passed since Luffy became the Second King of the Pirates. The Straw Hats have disbanded, each taking their own paths. No one knows where they are. Meanwhile, Amalphia is a sixteen year old girl whose island is in a crisis: the infamous pirate Gridori has taken over and is dictating the island. She sets out to ressurect the Straw Hats, but do they even want to help?
1. Prologue

**So this is a sample story I want to try out and see just what you guys may think about this. No pairings are planned in this story as of yet, but there may be some subtext. Anyway, please tell me if I should continue this. I've been mulling it for a while and need to get it out of my head.**

**R&R**

Time Leaves No Survivors

Chapter 1 – Prologue

"No! Lady, you mustn't!"

She turned, her bleach-white hair framed by the moonlight shining through her open bedroom window, illuminating her face like she was from heaven above. Her piercing blue eyes sparkled with determination and yet fierce mischievousness. She removed his hand from her wrist and stepped closer to the window, adjusting the straps on her pack one last time.

"I must," she said. "It is of the utmost importance that I find him. He is the only one that can help us."

"But he is a pirate! And pirates cannot be trusted!"

"And so is the man who dictates our country," she pointed out. "Who better to defeat a pirate than another?"

He pleaded with her, soft hazel eyes locking onto her face. "Please, don't go."

"This is my destiny. Don't you believe in that?"

He shook his head. "I believe in you staying safe here! Let the marines take care of it."

She scoffed. "The marines are all corrupted; they care nothing and even if they did, Gridori is too powerful for them. Only he can save us."

"No one knows where he is! It's been five years since he last made an appearance."

"Who says I have to find the leader first?"

He watched as she pulled a crumpled poster from a pocket in her dark pants. She unfolded it, and the man recoiled at the image of the monster to whom the wanted poster belonged. "You want to -?"

"Yes."

There was silence between the two. A soft wind blew the leaves in a swift current into the room, sending a light shiver up her spine. She took this as her cue to leave, and she turned to stand on the windowpane, reaching out for the branch reaching out just beyond the fence.

The rough bark pricked her thighs as she positioned herself comfortably as he leaned out from the room barely visible in his dark clothes. She smiled softly. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she said.

He nodded. Suddenly, there was a pounding at the door across the room, and a gruff voice on the other side demanded entry. The man whipped around, his eyes dilating in horror. With shaking fingers, he reached for the sword at his hip, drawing the blade.

"Go," he said hurriedly. "If he raises the alarm, you'll never escape the island."

She nodded and dropped down from the tree, landing in a light crouch and roving her eyes across the lawn to check for sentries. Above her, she heard the door burst open, the intruder demanding to know her whereabouts. Steel clashed against steel, and she darted across the grass, footsteps muffled by the green stalks.

The town was quiet, all the shutters locked and barred. A stray chicken clucked its way across her path, and she leaped stealthily over it and continued. No one would ever imagine that an infamous pirate crew dictated this sleepy village. But the massive vessel moored on the reef off the coast flying the Jolly Roger was a dead giveaway. She passed a pub, the lights on and music playing loudly as calls for more kegs was answered.

She finally arrived at the harbor, panting heavily and slipping her pack from her shoulder. Picking her way down a rocky slope to the beach, she hissed as a rock cut deep into her hand. She had nothing to tie it with, so she bit her lip and turned to the small one-man boat stashed there, just as she had ordered.

She tossed her things into the boat and climbed aboard, adjusting the rigging according to what she had been taught. She was just preparing to lower the sail when loud voices caught her attention. She dropped to the deck, hiding her hair under a tarp.

The voices obviously belonged to the pirate men; their drunken slurs gave them away. Alcohol had been reserved primarily for themselves, so no resident had any chance of possessing the whiskey. She dropped her breathing to practically nothing, praying they would leave quickly.

They didn't. They lingered there for what felt like hours to her; she dare not fall asleep, nor even move. When they finally decided to go back to the bar, she felt her joints creaking like an old wooden rocking chair as she sat up. She winced in pain as her sliced hand sent a wave of pain up her arm.

Discarding it, she continued her tasks, letting down the sail for a wind to catch it. The boat pulled away from the beach and slowly set out for the sea, wind blowing her bangs about her eyes.  
She squinted into the wind, a smile pulling her lips.

_Stay right where you are, _she thought. _I'm coming for you. You must help our island before we become simply a statistic in Gridori's conquest._

_I'm coming for you, Monkey D. Luffy, King of the Pirates._

**So like I said, should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do realize my chapters are fairly short, but I think this is all I need to finish it, ya know? Especially since I'm still trying to get the story rolling, but once everything is in order and I actually know what I'm doing, they'll get longer, I promise. But for now, please read and review.**

Chapter 2

A bird was cawing. She blinked, squinting as the bright sun invaded her eyes. The boat creaked loudly as she sat up, reminding her for the infinite time it needed repairing. The vessel was ignored as she stood and walked into the small cabin to fix herself breakfast.

Sleeping outside had not been the best idea. Having been out star-gazing, the gentle rocking of her boat had lulled her to sleep, and now her back was paying the price. She rolled her neck and turned on the burner, still wiping sleep from her eyes. She was almost out of fuel and provisions, and she had been forced to cut back on food; already her ribs were slightly visible beneath her ratted shirt.

She was no navigator. All she knew was how to paddle, but she had the distinct feeling she had been going in circles. Almost a month and no sign of land; she was getting desperate.

She cracked open her last egg, splattering it inside the rarely-cleaned pot, moving it around with a spatula. The yolk sizzled and filled the cabin with a delectable smell. She licked her lips and continued poking at possibly her only meal for the day.

As she waited for her meal to finish, she left the cabin and poked through her pack, pulling out a stack of papers. Straightening, she flipped through them, eyeing the bounties as she went. Eight hundred million, six hundred million, seven hundred seventy million, one hundred twenty million… here he is.

She stopped at the image held in her hand, the one with the third highest bounty. The name had long faded, but she still recognized the face; she had stared it long and hard over the past month, memorizing every detail, every curve on his face, the lines around his eyes, his shaggy hair pulled into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, the slim goatee around his gaping mouth as he yelled a battle cry.

It was an amazing picture, and she really admired the photographer. She flipped through the other bounty posters, her expert eyes roving over each one. The woman with the long red-orange hair, the strange creature with huge pronged horns, the other man with wild black hair.

She stuffed the papers back into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. As soon as it fell snug against her back, something exploded behind her, and the world went black.

.o0o.

"Hey, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"There was a huge explosion just now over starboard."

The second man leaned over the railing, squinting his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun glinting off the orange lens of his glasses. His subordinate had spoken the truth; a trail of smoke was rising over the ocean, when no islands were available for miles. "Sure enough," he said. "Looks like a tiny boat just exploded. But what are they doing so close to the Calm Belt? Any reasonable sailor should have sea stone hulls, but I doubt that one did."

"Should we dispatch a rescue squad?"

The man took a drag on his cigarette, letting out the smoke in perfect circles. "I'll go," he said. "Prepare the grocery dingy."

"But what if it's…?"

The man shot the other a look, and his assistant closed his mouth promptly. "Do I need to remind you who I am?" he asked sternly.

The assistant shook his head. "No, sir."

"Tell the others to prepare the dingy. And by the time I get back, I want all the people in the main room gone and replaced with different people. Fast service is everything, and don't be afraid to kick out worthless bounty hunters."

"Hai!"

The man kept his eye on the smoke stack and he walked down the stairs and onto the main deck, his boots clicking on the hard mahogany wood. In minutes, his subordinates had arranged his transport a small ship with simple striped green design he wanted to paint over with a burning passion, but could never bring himself to do it. A pure white sail was rolled up and tied with tight with ropes. Two oars poked at the motionless sea on either side. If one looked closely, the blue-green of the sea stone coating the hull could be seen through the water.

He didn't have to use the ship if he didn't want to, but he felt that in case there were more than two people, he should use the dingy. Even through all his training, two people was still his limit, but he liked pushing the limits; he had plenty of experience in the past doing it anyway.

He pushed off from the dock, giving last orders to his men before taking the oars in hand and rowing hard in the direction of the smoke, cutting through the water like butter. No sea kings disturbed him thanks to the sea stone, but that didn't stop him from keeping an eye on the ocean. Ever since settling in the Calm Belt bordering the North Blue and the Grand Line three years ago, even with the knowledge of the marine's secret method, a small part of him was always on his guard.

The sun was bright, as it always was. With no wind on this part of the ocean, there was no comforting breeze, but he had grown used to the climate. After all, after the things he'd witnessed, he could handle anything, so he figured. No seabirds called, but this close to the border of the Calm Belt and the actual North Blue it wasn't rare to see an occasional gull.

He drew closer to the exploded ship, and he could now make it out to be a small single-passenger vessel, or what was left of it at least. By his guess it was probably a fishing boat thrown far off course by a storm; kudos to the survivor, if there was one after the explosion.

Finally, he pulled up next to the wreckage. Small bits of wood clanked against his boat, stunning him the sea kings hadn't come for the scrap yet. He spotted an iron pan resting on a floating box, a wet half-fried egg floating in the water. He smirked; idiot probably left the flame unattended. What kind of asshole would…

He spotted a shock of white, and his gaze shifted to a figure draped across what could possibly have been the mast. Long white hair was plastered to a slender face, but too slender, too thin. Malnutrition, he recognized it immediately. A backpack was slung across the figure's back, zipped closed tightly. He hooked a finger around a strap and lugged the victim into his boat.

As the face became visible, his heart did a double take. This was definitely no asshole. She was beautiful, with pretty lips and high cheekbones, long eyelashes stark against her pale skin. A small cut was streaming blood down the side of her face, and he wiped it away with a finger. She was clad in what could once have been a tight-fitting black shirt that now seemed a bit big, but still nicely illuminated her _gorgeous_ body. She also wore black leggings, crusted with sea salt and dripping wet.

He slid off his long coat and wrapped it around her, placing her gently on the bench opposite him so he could look at her beautiful face while still keeping a steady pace as he made his way back to his home.

.o0o.

She was vaguely aware of someone dabbing her face, but she didn't dare open her eyes. She knew she had not been lying on such a warm and soft surface when she had woken up that morning, and she knew she hadn't been this warm and comfortable in a long time, so peaceful. She feigned sleep as whoever was caring for her began to speak to someone else in the room.

"She'll be okay. Explosion gave her a few cuts and bruises but nothing remotely threatening to her life. Should be up in a day."

"That's good," said the second voice. "I'm just thankful the sea kings didn't get to her before I did."

A chair was pushed back, and the first man spoke as he gathered his things. She assumed him to be a doctor. "No solid foods, but warm soup will be adequate when she wakes up."

"I'll prepare some," said the second, and the two men left the room, a door closing behind them.

She took the opportunity and opened her eyes, turning her head to examine her surroundings. She was lying on a soft bed, thick sheets tucked around her body. Across the room was a small dresser and a closet, in which hung several identical suits and what looked like trench coats. A mirror was mounted over the dresser, but it was too high for her to see herself. On the counter was a photograph of a group of people, too far away to make out, but she could make out a rainbow of different colors. The room held a delectable scent, one she thought would never really go well together but did: smoke and various spices, and the barest trace of the sea.

"Someone's awake," said a voice, and she recognized it belonging to the second man who had been in the room a few minutes ago. The door opened to reveal the owner of the voice, and she felt her eyes widen, scrambling back into her pillows as she recognized him immediately.

"You – !"

He chuckled lightly. "Lichen says not to move quickly; you've been out for a few hours, but it still doesn't give you an excuse to hop out of bed like it's Christmas morning. Especially for someone as beautiful as you!"

She watched him as he placed a tray across her lap, a steaming bowl of a caramel-colored soup dusted with small crystals of seasoning floating on top. It smelled delicious. "Eat up, mademoiselle."

"But you're –"

He tilted his head. "Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am the owner of this restaurant, the Baratie II, traveling from the Grand Line to the North Blue and through the Calm Belt. I'm Chef Black Foot Sanji, profession sea cook." He flashed her a wide toothed smile. "And who are you?"

**Do you like that I didn't reveal names until the very end but instead dropped hints here and there? I like to keep the suspense going, and I want to know if you figured out it was Sanji before I said it was.**

**Anyway, tell me how it was and I'll get back to you. :D**


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